Pages

Monday, October 14, 2013

Here's your chance at a sneak peek of Fire 'N Bryce! This short story takes place between Season One and Season Two of The Sidhe and is the first time we see Bryce's point of view. We hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter One

Even as he did an aerial twist, dodging the stone projectiles thrown at him, Bryce coiled fire between his hands. The heat he generated was tremendous, but that wasn’t what made sweat coat his skin and drip from his red hair. The burning magic was bigger than a rugby ball when he flung it at his assailant. It collided center mass with the stone golem, exploding into smoke and cinders, and searing the top layer of its body. It made a dent, but just barely, and immediately the damage healed right back up, before it raced after him again.

“You need more mass behind your flames,” Donovan instructed.

And Bryce already knew that. He knew it every single time his magic burst on impact instead of driving a hole right through his target.

Growling with his effort, he tried again, coiling up the fire as hot and tight as he could. Shoving all his will into the magic like it was the last thing he’d get to do. Like it was do or die. He shoved his fire hard together between his hands, until his gut ached with the effort of pushing and his body trembled. And then he threw the fire again.

And again it shattered into a rain of burning scraps.

His heart pounded with his need to do this. To prove himself. To be the best Sidhe warrior Donovan ever trained.

The golem rushed for him and Bryce stood his ground. He streamed a javelin of focused flame right at the stone creation’s face, intent on burning its head right off.

It collided with him in a flying tackle that drove his back to the floor. The golem’s shoulder lodged in his gut to take him down hard, knocking all the air out of him with a yelp of pain.

When he didn’t get up right away, just rolled side to side a bit, the golem disintegrated into sand that ran down to the floor where it was absorbed.

Bryce cracked opened his eyes.

Donovan stood over him, hand extended. “You put everything you have into it, but that’s not enough. Not yet.”

Grimacing, Bryce accepted the hand, and let Donovan yank him to his feet.

“Take a break. We’ll try again later.”

“No. I’m good. We can keep going.” He did his best to resisted the urge to bend at the waist and struggle to catch his breath, but his body didn’t listen to him any more than his fire did.

“Take a break,” Donovan repeated.

Bryce limped over to the bench and slumped down onto it. As he mopped the sweat from his face with a towel, he guzzled the water from a bottle. Out in the middle of the practice room, Kieran demolished his third golem, shattering it with unheard sound vibrations that made the ground shiver beneath Bryce’s trainers. Something as inconsequential as sound could tear things apart, when his fire, which should be flat out the deadliest magic of the lot, couldn’t make more than a singe mark.

He knew fire could do some flat brilliant stuff. He’d gotten Donovan to tell him all about the fire Sidhe from the Mounds. Especially the ones that had been Elite, like him. Deadly assassins and fierce warriors. Just like Donovan.

Just like what Bryce knew he could be.

Not like poor Malcolm, with hardly enough magic to rub together to even notice. He’d be furious, too, if he’d gotten the short end of the magic stick. That was why the lad used his knife to strike at the golem coming at him. Bryce and Malcolm were the same age, but Malcolm was thinner and more agile. He looked like a ninja when he tumbled, like he always knew right where his body was in space, but he almost always wanted to charge in with his blade rather than waste time with the fancier stuff.

Both the other lads were deadlier than him. They’d both had their first kills under their belts, too. And if Donovan ever needed someone at his back in a fight, he’d probably want either of them.

Leastwise, for now.

Bryce tossed down the towel and bounded back into the workout room. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go again.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

As Donovan raked his gaze over him, Bryce could feel the assessment. Like Donovan was checking him for weakness. Looking for a reason to send him back to the bench. So he flamed over his hands, just to prove how ready he was. The fire licked up his arms, but the heat didn’t hurt him at all. And his sleeves didn’t catch fire either, because it was stuff made by the dwarves and couldn’t burn. Even before he spoke, Bryce could see it in his eyes that he meant not to let him go back in. “I have something else I want you to do. Dawn needs to return to the fairy’s grove. Her foster father is sick and they’ve sent for her.” He checked the wall clock. “She’ll be leaving in half an hour. Just long enough for you to shower and grab an overnight bag.”

His shoulders slumped. The eager grin melted into a grimace. “Fairies?”

“No one travels alone.”

And Bryce knew that rule. Especially now that the Seelie and Donovan had crossed swords. That guy was one bad ass bloke, but Bryce still put his money on Donovan. But if that Seelie meant to hurt Dawn, or even him, there wasn’t much Bryce could do to stop him. He’d coated him with fire once before, and the Seelie had ripped it all apart.

Even still, what would that Seelie bloke want with a bunch of stupid fairies? They were almost a hundred percent unlikely to run into him out in some old mossy woods.

When Bryce didn’t move right away, Donovan gave him ‘the look’ and that got him going.

That look alone should be enough to bring the Seelie to his stupid knees. It scared the living crap out of Bryce.

And made him only all the more determined to prove himself worthy of something more than escorting Dawn to frivolous fairyville.

Monday, October 7, 2013

(Here's a sneak peek at Secrets of the Dark, a hot Paranormal Romance.)

Running didn’t lessen the drenching downpour driving
into Tia Lansing with the cold sting of dozens of tiny whips. She leaped over a
swirling puddle too quickly replenished by the runoff to disappear down the
storm drain at the curb. Her thin skirt, now a nearly transparent wrap, clung
around her knees and cut her stride short of its mark. Tia landed with both
feet in the puddle and the freezing water completely covered her strappy
sandals. With a squeak of shock at the cold rush over her feet, she jumped up
onto the curb.

The streak of street lights glistened off the
night-blackened buildings and asphalt, transforming the city into a vision of
one built entirely out of volcanic glass. The rain washed away the usual city
smells and perfumed the night with its eerie wild river scent. No sound reached
Tia through the muffling hiss whispered by each of the billions of droplets
falling from the sky like arrows.

She hurried to the underpass where the late night trains
rumbled through the city on their elevated railway. In the shelter of the
underpass, she shook the rivulets from her bare arms. Her hair clung to her
face and curled into wet ringlets over her shoulders. Tia wiped uselessly at
her face with her wet hands while she struggled to catch her breath and shiver
at the same time.

“You didn’t really dress for this weather.” The voice
rumbled low like a distant echo of thunder.

Tia glanced up, startled to discover she shared the
underpass with someone else. He half sat, half leaned on the guardrail further
up the sidewalk on her side of the street, his ankles crossed casually. The
mist of the rain reached out to him but always recoiled before touching him. He
hadn’t glanced in her direction but watched the toes of his black leather shoes
instead.

A glint of something shiny flashed in his hand before he
slipped it down beside his thigh where she could no longer see it. His other
hand remained tucked in the pocket of his black slacks. The sharp white of his
shirt glowed from under his black suit jacket. Unlike Tia, the rain hadn’t yet
touched him. His satin midnight hair remained perfectly parted and combed back.

Tia crossed her arms, both for warmth and to disguise
the fact her drenched pastel pink blouse no longer concealed the outline of her
bra. Walking carefully so her wet feet didn’t slip in her heels and cause her
to stumble, she crept toward his side of the underpass. Her apartment, a tiny
one over the Aquarius New Age Bookstore, waited for her several blocks further
down in The District, as the locals call the historic market district that
remained picturesque and nearly unchanged in the heart of downtown like a gem
in a tacky plastic setting.

As Tia passed the stranger a streak of lightning
flickered like a strobe, driving back the depths of the night for the span of a
breath and revealed not a soul on the hauntingly empty streets. With renewed
force, the clouds opened and released a full-on torrent so heavy the rain just
beyond the shelter rippled like a curtain and completed closed off the outside
world.

“Best to simply loiter until it passes,” he said. With a
smooth roll of his wrist the shiny object she’d noticed in his hand caught the
reflection of the streetlight. Whatever it was appeared thin and around five or
six inches in length. Before Tia could get a good look at it he completed the
movement and raised his empty hand to rest against his thigh. The object was
gone as if by slight of hand, if indeed there had been an object and not simply
a trick of the light.

“It could be a while, don’t you think?” Tia asked,
rubbing her arms.

“It is storming with a passion.” He grinned, still not
meeting her eyes. “Have you ever known something with this much passion to
last?”

“I guess not.” She paced away from him and as she turned
to cover the same ground again she found his gaze following her. A shiver
tingled across Tia’s skin and she felt her nipples hardening in response. Her
arms, still crossed over her chest, rubbed tantalizingly over the sensitive
points but she managed to suppress any telltale expression. “Are you from
around here?”

“For now.”

“What’s your name?”

He straightened suddenly, coming to his feet and
towering much taller than she’d expected. His jacket and shirt, both
unbuttoned, flapped open with the movement, revealing a far more toned and
massive chest than his previous stance suggested. The shape of him sparked
interest low in Tia’s belly and made breathing difficult. In looks, he should
have been a model but he carried himself like a cat, all smooth and fluid
movements designed for efficiency but graceful none the less. He purred, “Do
you need to know?”

Tia froze, recognizing the domination in his baring.
Determined not to show fear, she tilted up her chin. “I need to know.”

“Simon. And yours?”

Watching him closely, she replied, “Tia.”

“Nice name.” Simon strode a few paces away, glancing at
the impenetrable rainfall. “And what beckoned you to adventure out on a hellish
night like tonight, Tia?”

She shifted from foot to foot, not sure she wanted to
share any more personal information with this strange man. Then again, she
didn’t want him to get the wrong impression of why she walked the streets alone
this late at night. “I own a bar downtown. I just finished closing up and I’m
heading home.” Living in the city, she’d learned never to display weakness to a
stranger. With challenge in her voice she demanded, “And you?”

He chuckled to himself as if finding the question
amusing and he eased back toward her. “Just out looking for a bite to eat.”

“Uh-huh,” Tia said, watching him size her up wolfishly
as if she were on the menu. A tremble, composed of equal parts fear and
excitement, coursed through her. Tia found him far too sexy to trust her
judgment. She wanted to stay, wanted to get closer, maybe even touch him but
she heard the warning sirens in her head blaring. Best to listen to the
warning, she decided and circled a wide path around him toward home.

She was just a step away from reentering the pelting
rain when a sudden explosion of thunder overheard jolted her back. Her heels
slipped on the slick pavement and before she could fall or catch herself, Simon
gathered her in his arms. He’d crossed the distance between them
extraordinarily fast.

“Whoa, fella. Hands off.” Tia pushed against his chest,
missing the opened shirt so her palms pressed on his unyielding bare pecs. The
skin glistened with a golden tan and felt as supple as fine suede.

His hands slid down Tia’s arms, leaving hot trails in
their wake. Simon lowered his hands to his side but didn’t step back. Standing
so close to her, the rustle of the storm winds blew his open jacket so it
fluttered against her torso. The heat pulsing from his body drove away the
chills and pulled her magnetically toward him. He asked, “You’d prefer I allow
you fall?”

“I guess not,” she mumbled, no longer focused on the
minor offense but instead staring with fascination into his eyes. A starburst
of white ringed his pupils and flamed into burning yellow only to cool into a
red crown circling the edge of his irises. The color seemed to modulate, as if
capturing the flicker of a flame in slow motion. “You have fire in your eyes,”
she said, only half aware of how stupid the comment sounded.

“Not just in my eyes,” Simon smiled.

A gust of dry heat puffed over Tia and she stumbled back
a step in surprise. “What was that?” She touched her newly dried hair and
smoothed her perfectly pressed clothes. “How did you do that?”

“That was nothing,” he dismissed it with a wave of his
hand.

“Sure impressed the hell out of me.”

He cocked his head, sizing her up. A grin quirked up the
corners of his perfect lips, which were just full enough to imply a melting
tenderness to his kisses. The expression softened the perfect planes of his
face. With amused surprise in his voice, he stated, “You’re not afraid, are
you?”

Tia thought about the question. The adrenaline pickling
in her blood rushed not to her muscles, as if to prepare to fight or flee but
to her skin, heart and lower regions, making her body ache with a longing only
physical contact of a romantic nature could soothe. Breathlessly, she asked,
“Should I fear you?”

He considered the question. “Should you? What an
interesting dilemma. What should one do in your predicament? What should one
feel? I have never pondered that.”

Tia stepped back out of arms’ reach, not able to
reconcile the attraction and mistrust mingling inside her. “My predicament?
What predicament am I in?”

“That I cannot express in words you would understand.”
Simon held out his hand, palm up. “I can only show you.”

She stared at his hand, debating if she should accept
the offer she assumed it meant. She hadn’t yet moved, either to accept or
retreat when the glowing began.

In a voice as terrifying as the roar of a landslide and
echoing with inhuman power, Simon uttered, “Titch
Cha, Aroomba Tha.”

A golden light emerged from Tia’s heart, glowing with
the brilliance of flaming copper. It grew like a supernova until the light no
longer came from inside but surrounded her in a glittering cocoon. She
struggled to breathe. The energy, so powerful, so vibrant, expanded her sense
of self until she felt she existed both inside her body and yet filled the
bubble of light with her essence. “What’s happening?”

As the leading membrane of the energy encased Simon’s
outstretched hand, the pressure of the power eased slightly. Tia felt herself drawn
to him like a tide to the moon. The energy, not her consciousness, drew her
hand into his.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise but grasped her
hand anyway. With a gentle tug, he dragged himself through the thick power
surrounding her until it completely subsumed him.

Tia saw him differently now. A blue snap of flame burned
without heat over Simon’s flesh as it fed on gold ripples of energy still
spilling out of her.

They came together like two rivers. She flowed outward
and he flowed inward, swallowing all she offered. The outflow of energy drained
her strength. Her arms circled Simon’s neck, clutching to him as if she would
collapse without his support. He embraced her to him, wrapping his arms
fiercely about her waist so each of his strained gasps for air flattened her
breasts more snugly against the solid burn of his chest. He tossed his head
back, a mixture of pleasure and pain crossing his handsome face. They grasped
desperately to each other, overwhelmed with the surge passing between them. Each
pulse bursting from Tia echoed through her body, through her core, compounding
her initial attraction into physical desire.

“Reece Ti’aggo,”
he uttered shakily. “Damn girl, you’re delicious.”

“Taste me, Simon,” Tia ordered, raking her fingers
through his thick black hair and tugging his mouth down to hers. He hesitated
less than an inch from her lips for a fraction of a second, gazing deeply into
her with his flaming eyes, before plunging forward. Her lips parted for him and
his tongue slipped between them. The light around them blazed and crackled,
filling the air with the scent of ozone. Drinking voraciously, he consumed Tia
in his kiss. He tasted of wild storms, lightning and magic. Primitive lust
flared up inside her, only to cascade out into the bubble of light, building
and compounding upon itself as the flow of emotion drowned them. No rational
thought reached the surface, only urgency and pulse-pounding need.

Desperately, Tia explored Simon’s body with her hands.
Sliding them beneath his open shirt, she traced the shape of his defined
stomach. A hiss of excitement escaped him, making her want him so much she
couldn’t think.

What is Fey Cast?

I have dual citizenship. I live in the world of the Sidhe almost more than I do in reality. Lugh, Donovan, London and the rest are more than just characters to me. I live through them. I fight along side them. I celebrate with them. I've danced all night in The Glamour Club. I've experienced the Sidhe Touch and I am addicted to it. I want to share my excitement for this fantasy world with you. Fey Cast is my reporting from that world to this one.